


Expecto Patronum

by zhem1x5



Series: Questionable Gifts [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 20:31:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1721633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhem1x5/pseuds/zhem1x5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco woke to the blessed quiet and wonderfully medicinal smell of the hospital wing at Hogwarts. If he lay quiet enough he could almost pretend that the past few months were a dream, a terrible one that he would have to whisper to his mother in the dark so that she would comfort him.</p><p>But the remaining ache, the awareness of things he shouldn't have been--two students whispering in the hall outside, the quiet scuff of a shoe, the rapid beating of a heart that took entirely too long to distinguish as his own--pressed oppressively against his senses.</p><p> </p><p>An alternate part 2 of the series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Expecto Patronum

**Author's Note:**

> This follows [Questionable Gifts](http://archiveofourown.org/works/629764) and as an alternate to [Dynamics of Perfection](http://archiveofourown.org/works/952285) is a more submissive Draco. You don't have to read any of the others in this series to understand what's going on.
> 
> This is also the first of the series to actually be completed and will always be my favorite.

Draco woke to the blessed quiet and wonderfully medicinal smell of the hospital wing at Hogwarts. If he lay quiet enough he could almost pretend that the past few months were a dream, a terrible one that he would have to whisper to his mother in the dark so that she would comfort him.

But the remaining ache, the awareness of things he shouldn't have been--two students whispering in the hall outside, the quiet scuff of a shoe, the rapid beating of a heart that took entirely too long to distinguish as his own--pressed oppressively against his senses.

He hurt in places where he had become accustomed to feeling a pain induced numbness. Strange that healing made it so much worse.

He shifted, trying to at least sit up, refusing to be supine when someone finally realized he was awake.

Laying with his belly exposed was too vulnerable, submissive.

A quiet groan, muffled behind clenched teeth, slipped out anyway and the curtain around his bed was drawn back before he could move defensively.

"Really, now, Mr. Malfoy, innate healing or no, you are in no condition to be moving about. Lie still or I will have to bind you."

Draco growled, baring his teeth as she stepped closer.

It at least gave her pause, though a short one, before she followed through on her threat, binding him while she examined his progress.

He growled louder, twisting against the invisible bindings, ignoring her as she tsk'd.

"You're healing quite well," she informed him easily.

He glared as she pressed the back of her hand against his forehead.

"Still feverish, though that could be natural to your new condition or simply a sign of the disease working through your body still. That would explain the lingering scars."

He shuddered as she lifted his shirt over his chest.

"Do you know what was used to create these?"

Draco's breath turned ragged, panic engulfing him as he fought harder against the binding.

"Mr. Malfoy," Pomfrey chastised, smoothing sudden beads of sweat from his brow. "You must calm down. Breathe."

Draco shook, eyes staring hard at the very end of the scars that he could see. He knew, could feel those blunt nails in his skin, see the way his blood welled up so easily in their ragged path.

Tears came unbidden to his eyes and he couldn't even dash them away. He blinked and they trailed over his pale cheeks, the first time he had cried publicly since Potter had hexed him.

Pomfrey slid his shirt back down over his stomach, hiding the red lines from them both. "It's alright, Draco," she whispered, smoothing his hair away from his face. "It'll be alright. I'll unbind you now, but I have to ward the bed. Until we know more, you can't wander the halls alone."

Draco shook, laying still as she undid her spell and closed the curtains again. He could smell the strength of the ward she erected around his bed and knew that if he ventured beyond that curtain he wouldn't be walking very far. Ever again unless there was some quick spell work.

It was quiet after that, the spell muffling the sound of even her retreating footsteps. Draco waited another minute anyway, listening fearfully, before he shuffled slowly onto his side.

The movement pulled and stretched the newly healed skin of his stomach, he settled slowly onto his right side only to hiss as he put his weight on his hip.

That wouldn't do. He couldn't stand the pressure of even the bed against his new scar.

Shifting onto his other side took even longer and by the time he was laying on his left, cradling a soft pillow against him, Draco was gasping for breath.

He let the tears come.

.

He was stiff and sore when he woke again, arms wrapped tightly around a pillow he knew had been whole when he finally fell into an exhausted sleep. Now, though, small feathers stuck out of tears he couldn't remember making.

Draco pressed them in again, smoothing the rough edges of the cloth.

Voices reached through the curtains of his bed, warning Draco that he would be bound again soon. He pushed the ruptured pillow away carefully, forcing himself into a seated position and trying to ignore the way the skin around his scars bulged oddly. He hadn't been much to look at before but he dreaded having to see himself naked now.

Madam Pomfrey's voice quieted a few seconds before she pushed aside the curtain separating— shielding—his bed from the rest of the wing. Draco squinted instinctively, protecting his eyes from the sudden flare of torchlight.

If she was surprised to see him conscious or upright, the matron didn't let on. Her wand was in her hand and running diagnostic spells before Draco's eyes had moved past her to the slight figure who had accompanied her.

Potter.

If he could have opened his mouth beyond a snarl, Draco thought he would have howled, screamed, anything to keep the Gryffindor golden boy from looking at him.

"None of that, Mr. Malfoy," she admonished, all business where before she had been almost kind. Draco found himself overreacting to the difference, tears filling his eyes before he'd even realized how stung he was.

She was kind enough to ignore it in the other boy's presence, running a few more tests while Draco composed himself.

Her smile was almost sad when Draco was ready to face her again.

"You might not remember it, Draco, but Mr. Potter was one of the young men who found you and brought you here."

Draco refused to acknowledge the boy even though he wanted to growl when the brunet stepped closer to his bed.

She frowned at him but eventually said nothing, few knew the extent of their rivalry better than she. "He only wanted to see for himself that you were healing."

Rescued by Saint Potter. That was a life debt for sure.

Draco wanted to grimace and groan, pout until it wasn't so, except he was a Malfoy and he couldn't do that here. Except, he--his life--was nothing now. Potter could have it.

Taking his silence for acceptance, she turned back to the Gryffindor. "Which he has seen so he will be on his way. Patients need their rest."

Potter paled, risking another quick look at Draco before he nodded and left.

Pomfrey closed the curtains again, much to Draco's grateful relief, but she didn't leave him alone. He watched in curious confusion as she conjured a chair and seated herself at his bedside.

"According to all of my tests and spells you are perfectly healed. Perfectly healthy."

Draco's frown matched the one she directed at him. "But?" he asked slowly.

She laid a hand on the bed, near enough that he could take it if he wanted and far enough away that he could relax after his initial tense reaction. “What do you remember of the morning Mr. Potter found you?”

Draco kept a careful eye on her hand though he wasn't really seeing it. He knew what she was asking him.

_Draco doesn't make a sound as Fenrir rolls him onto his back almost gently. Best not to draw attention to the fact that it hadn't hurt, the man was prone to fits of anger over the slightest noise._

_Later the blond would wonder if the werewolf had known they were being tracked. It didn't matter in the end; Potter had never arrived in time to save him before._

_Fenrir's hands on him are almost hesitant, touching Draco as though he never has before._

_Draco lets him, confused and afraid of the change in the older man's behavior._

_Rough hands stroke over his chest and stomach, gripping his hips to pull him closer. Open him wider._

_Draco swallows nervously. In all the time Fenrir has had him, he's never used Draco this way. And despite his misgivings, Draco can feel his body beginning to respond to the care._

_Blood pumps into his slowly rising cock, it twitches when Fenrir takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with the scent of Draco's arousal for the first time._

_The grin he treats Draco to is terrifying. "Like it sweet and gentle, pretty?" He cups Draco's arse, spreading his cheeks. "Such a pretty girl you would have been, all spread out for me."_

_Draco can't refute it, not if he wants to keep his bits intact. Fenrir's nails are far too close to delicate parts for Draco to anger him._

_Draco knows Fenrir knows he knows that. And yet his smile is only pleased as he licks a wet stripe up Draco's cock._

_He almost doesn't stop the moan in time, biting down on his lower lip at the last moment though he can't stop the needy shuffle of his hips._

_Pleasure is a shock to his system after so long without, his first orgasm in what's left of his recent memory building embarrassingly fast._

_Fenrir lets him get closer and closer, precome dripping out of his aching cock, the feeling unlike anything he's ever experienced._

_Draco's hands scrabble at the ground beneath him, searching for purchase on anything in his effort to hold himself back._

_He needn't have worried what punishment coming would have earned him._

_Fenrir's nails are only a little sharper than a normal man's would be, so he has to put a lot of pressure behind dragging them down Draco's soft belly._

_Draco screams, overwhelmed by the proximity to true pleasure before the pain was ripped out of him. He can't wriggle out from under the man, fearing how much deeper those nails can gouge, vital organs having little protection on his thinned frame._

_It's too much to assimilate, the rush of blood to his stomach, cock suddenly soft after being so close._

_His heart feels like it might explode, pulse pounding in his ears._

_And then he feels the werewolf's teeth digging into his hip and changing his life more than Draco has ever imagined._

“He-you saw. The scars...the rest.”

She nodded but he ignored it.

“He bit me.” He looked up at her sharply. “He bit me but he wasn't changed. And it was morning so it'll be fine. Except...”

_He burns with it, the fire of disease racing through every vein as he screams and thrashes against the dirt and grit grinding into his back._

_Fenrir laughs, licking Draco's blood from his fingers before burying himself inside the boy again._

_The new pain is hazy in the wake of his change._

_“Come now, little Draco,” Greyback whispers maliciously. “You have to put up better sport.”_

_Draco shakes, heaving breaths out as he fights for consciousness._

_Fenrir ignores him after that, fucking him deep, past the point of pain; forcing his knees against his thin chest, the wounds on his stomach gaping wider._

“Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Malfoy,” Pomfrey touched him then, a mistake though he managed to control himself beyond the truly gut-wrenching moment of his sudden defensiveness.

Her wand was on him in seconds, running another round of spells, as Draco winced and gasped, pressing his fingers gingerly against the pain in his stomach.

“You shouldn't move so suddenly,” she whispered. “But I should not have touched you, though you were clearly in distress. It will take time for others to adjust as well.”

“Adjust to what,” he whispered back, feeling like he'd torn himself open again. He had to ask, knowing —feeling what she would say—but having to hear it spoken.

She pressed her hand against his face gently. “Draco, it's true that it was daylight when you were found, past dawn even, but light enough that generally one might have less to fear from the bite.”

She didn't touch it, or even look at his hip, but Draco could feel her focus on it. It ached.

“It's also true that Greyback was not in his lupine form when he bit you. That's a small mercy, he would have torn you apart otherwise.”

Draco grimaced, knowing the werewolf had come close enough, on more than just the morning he had been found.

“The issue arises from the fact that it was a full moon morning. And as on most mornings, the moon was still in the sky.”

Draco gasped, sucking in a loud breath through his nose. “Did it—Am I?” He couldn't ask, couldn't seal his fate with the words.

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy. I'm afraid you are.”  
.

 

Losing consciousness wasn't his finest hour, but given the nature of his condition, and everything that brought it on, Draco wasn't too bothered by his disgusting lack of stamina in the face of adversity.

Whatever. Anyone who didn't like his reactions could bloody well fuck off.

He sniffed carefully, grateful to find no wards around his bed this time. Draco stood slowly, pressing the rising edge of his nightshirt down around his legs. No need to bare more than he had to in the likely crowded room. There would be plenty pleased to see the downfall of the Malfoy family.

Potter was waiting for him, alone thankfully, but waiting just the same. It made Draco wish for a pair of trousers or even a robe rather than the thin cotton of his shirt.

It was drafty in the castle and huddling inside the light weight of it left Draco feeling disgustingly small. Especially when the other boy sat so casually.

“What are you doing here, Potter?”

“It's been three days. Madam Pomfrey said I could wait for you.”

Draco snorted, crossing his arms over his chest tightly and trying not to think about the missing time. “And what could the Chosen One want with the least Malfoy?”

“Listen, Malfoy, I just wanted to make sure you were—”

“Restrained? Normal? Or perhaps human?” He took a step toward the seated boy, rage building in every movement.

Potter lifted his hands, placating. Wandless. It helped calm Draco as such an action never would have before.

“I only wanted to make sure you were really okay. When we found you...”

“I remember,” Draco broke in tersely.

_Strong hands grip his hips, peeling Fenrir's fingers away from his skin, and even that hurts, aching through the burn of the disease in his veins. He can hear growling and a scuffle, his body tensing when they came too near. He groans, fingers digging deep into the dirt beneath him. Sharp voices call out above him, hands pressing into his shredded skin. He has to bite into his lip to keep from screaming at them, from striking out when they touch his hip. He tries to push them away, fingers aching as they release the dirt. They were hazy shadows through the film of tears clouding his eyes. He can see, but he can't. A blur of red and a vivid glimpse of green before the familiar length of a wand presses against him and he slips mercifully, gratefully, into unconsciousness._

The memory of it left Draco shaking, resting against the rumpled bed with his hands clenched around his upper arms.

Potter too looked sickened by their shared experience. “So you understand why I was anxious to speak to you?”

Draco sneered. “I didn't know you knew the proper meaning of that word.”

“Piss off, Malfoy. I was worried. I saved your pathetic life after all.”

Only a few months ago that sentence would have had him drawing his wand. The instantaneous urge was there, only hindered by the truth. He was useless now. He had had to be saved. It was a large amount of pride to have to swallow.

“Touché, Potter.”

“Mal-Draco, don't sneer, I'm calling you that. You're missing my point. I said don't sneer. Maybe I'm saying it wrong. It's just... I had nightmares enough before we found you. And now, I just... look, forget I came.” He stood slowly.

“Potter,” Draco whispered, eyes firmly on the stone beneath his bare feet. “I have nightmares too. Not about that night. Not yet. But about the others.”

“Nights with Greyback?”

Draco drew away, turning his back on the other boy though he couldn't turn his head away completely.  
He kept a careful eye on the Gryffindor.

“Go away, Potter. I'm tired now.”

.

The Gryffindor was waiting for him again in the morning, occupying the same uncomfortable looking chair. Hair as wild as ever and looking like he'd barely slept, the only change had been his clothing.

Draco climbed wearily back into his bed, it was the furthest away he could get. “You look like shite, Potter.”

“Likewise, Draco.”

Draco rolled his eyes, slumping against the headboard with affected casualness. “Just because you 'saved' me and we went through 'an experience', it doesn't give you the right to my given name.”

Harry smiled. “It does in Gryffindor.”

“You've settled upon the unequivocal difference. I'm a Slytherin.”

“I might have been,” Harry answered smugly.

Draco didn't even twitch. “You're a terrible liar, Potter.”

The other boy was silent for a long time, leaning back in his chair and staring at nothing. “I'll tell you my nightmare, if you'll tell me yours.”

“We're not eleven, Potter.”

“No, we're supposed to be mature enough to get along. We're not children anymore.”

Draco couldn't find fault with that, except that it was Potter saying it. “You first,” he finally whispered.

“They're usually different things. Times I've messed up. Gotten people hurt. But for the last week and a half they were all about you.” He looked up at Draco sadly. “I don't get there in time to stop him. I don't save you. And you die.”

“You didn't stop him, Potter. You didn't save me and death would have been preferable.”

Harry took that as calmly as he could. Everyone who knew what had happened had warned him a Pure-blood would not take the change well. Still, after everything they had risked, it was hard to hear the blond speak ill of it.

“What about yours, Draco?”

_Hot piss on cold skin, aching knees and bruising lips, discovering there is no comfortable position in which to sit and squatting feels too much like an animal._

“The usual. Failing a test or earning detention.”

“Bollocks,” Harry hissed.

“What do you think I dream about?!” Draco nearly came out of the bed, only his lack of a wand kept him seated.

Harry calmed himself slowly. “I don't know unless you tell me.”

“Fenrir,” Draco whispered. “I dream about Fenrir.”

Harry nodded, waiting for the blond to continue.

Draco looked at his hands, picking at his nails self-consciously. “Some nights weren't so bad, you know? Most were of course. Each night the same as the one before until finally it wasn't. The full moon. The new moon.

“I lived for complete darkness. I was safe one night a month.” He glanced up quickly. “But I'm not anymore. You should go.”

.

Pomfrey woke him early each morning, wand in one hand and a potion vial in the other. Healing draughts, blood-replenishing, nutrition, she explained each one as though Draco had never handled a potion before. As though he couldn't tell them apart by sight and taste.

Draco let her, because something inside of him grew angrier with each unnecessary word and he was afraid he'd snap if he told her he knew more about them than she did.

Her presence was a relief though because she didn't allow Potter to visit him until after all the potions and spells and invasive questions.

Draco almost wished she would stay and speak to him all day, just to keep the Gryffindor away from him, but she was busy and only wanted to talk about his months with Fenrir; so no matter how much he wanted her to stay, Draco was always glad to see her go.

Potter arrived not long after she left Draco alone and he thought the other boy must be spying to time his arrivals so well. He couldn't prove it of course, but he glared suspiciously anyway.

Somehow Potter always knew to come early on the days Pomfrey was checking the progress of his various scars. Draco would look up from keeping a close eye on her movements to find the Gryffindor hovering just within sight.

Standing there in only his pyjama bottoms, slung low enough that Pomfrey could see everything she needed, Draco knew what the other boy saw and hated that he couldn't cover himself up until the matron had completed her inventory.

The spidery webs on his chest weren't ever going away, no matter what Severus had attempted at the time. The vertical ones on his lower stomach however should have healed in the wake of his change, except Fenrir hadn't wanted them to. The marks of his nails were forever engraved in the soft flesh of Draco's belly.

His face flushed in shame whenever their curious eyes lingered too long.

Somehow Potter's eyes always found his before flicking to the mottled scar tissue of his left forearm.

Draco tried to ignore the way those green eyes lingered there before tracing the vertical scars on his wrists.

Pomfrey didn't ask him to talk about them when Potter was there. She let him get dressed again soon after realising the Gryffindor had wandered in to watch. She'd even stopped demanding that Potter leave her patient in peace and actually attend classes.

Potter simply smiled sheepishly and gestured to whichever text he'd brought along to study.

Draco wanted to ask the idiot how he got away with not attending class, but then he remembered who Potter was and thanked Merlin he didn't have the rest of the trio gawking at him. The comfort of knowing they would be dead before he was stopped made it alright that they were probably biding their time.

But he and Potter hadn't really spoken since the day they had shared their nightmares. At first the Gryffindor's silent presence was irritating, tiring. Spending hours on guard against an attack that never came was almost worse than when it did. Draco could only assume that Potter was biding his time too.

But now, it was almost routine.

Draco pulled his shirt on gratefully while Madam Pomfrey made additional notes in his file. Any moment she'd turn to find Potter observing them and shake her head sadly before going about whatever she did when not prodding Draco with a wand or describing the necessity and effects of a first-year level potion.

Potter at least knew he wasn't a moron.

Draco settled back on his bed when Pomfrey left them alone again. It wasn't so bad, alone in bed with a book, a lot like his summers before 6th year. Potter was there too of course, settled in the same uncomfortable chair with a book open in his lap. Like he was there but not. After a week of it, Draco had learned to appreciate his decorum.

Except today, after Pomfrey's warning, he didn't like it. He looked over at Potter concentrating quietly on his book and it was all wrong.

“Pomfrey says I'll have to go through the change alone. Without any potion assistance.”

Green eyes met his, staring wide-eyed as Potter worked his jaw silently.

Draco nodded, picking at his thin duvet. “She said it will hurt. That Wolfsbane takes a month to brew and there just wasn't enough time.”

“They'll have it for you next month though? And Remus is coming?”

Draco nodded again, shifting his own book. “They should have plenty by then, I just have to get through this first transformation.” He smirked suddenly. “But then most of the bitten don't survive the first one, so maybe that's something to look forward to.”

“Piss off, Draco. You're too much of a prat to die.”

Something about Potter's denial made him feel better about it, reminded him that the Gryffindor was right. Draco Malfoy did not give in so easily. “Thanks, Potter.”

The brunet shook his head, turning his attention back to the thick tome in his lap.

Draco frowned, setting his own aside and crossing his legs to face the other boy. It did not have the desired effect of gaining his attention so Draco tried again. “Potter?”

The other boy looked up slowly, gradually giving Draco his full attention. “What?”

“Why don't you go to your classes anymore?”

Something in Potter changed, grew colder. “It doesn't really matter.”

Draco drew back against his pillows, the furthest he could get from the other boy without leaving the bed. “Ye-yeah, you're right. Absolutely none of my business.”

The Gryffindor blanched. “Don't worry about it. There are just more important things I have to be doing.”

“But you're always here with me...”

Green eyes looked at him hard before turning back to his book.

Draco gaped at the other boy, unfamiliar warmth flooding his cheeks. Finally he too opened his forgotten book.

They didn't speak beyond general conversation for another three days.

.

Again, it was Draco who broke their communal silence, but it was almost the first quarter moon and he could feel the beast inside him stirring.

Potter was studying Transfiguration when Draco blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

“Only a week until I die, Potter.”

It had the desired effect, green eyes were burning into his as though Potter could make him survive it through sheer force of will.

Draco wondered if it was only because of all the effort of keeping him alive in the first place.

Finally Potter smirked. “Didn't they tell you, Draco? It's the bite that most people don't survive. If they make it through that, they're strong enough to withstand the transformation.”

It was still early, but Potter closed his book and left Draco to stew in the face of new information.

Pomfrey confirmed it later and Draco hated her a little for it. He hated Potter more, for having the audacity to be right about something that didn't concern him at all.

But then he remembered the look in the other boy's eyes when he talked about dying and decided that being angry over it was pointless. Especially when the monster inside of him craved the feeling.

His time really was running out though. He knew that this was it, his last week. When he woke up after the change he would be like Fenrir and no one else seemed to understand that.

He couldn't even say it out loud. Pomfrey wanted too many excruciating details as it was and Potter's first recent memory of him was covered in blood with his legs spread. Draco didn't want to encourage either of them to explore.

But if this was really going to be it for him, if they were going to have to kill him in seven days, then Draco wanted them to be seven days that mattered. Days that were a step toward something better than he was doing with his life before.

He wanted to be Harry Potter's friend.

.

Potter came back the next day. _Day seven_ , Draco thought morosely, beginning his inner countdown.

“You were right,” he admitted calmly, hoping to start their new relationship off on the right foot.

“About?” _Harry_ asked as he pulled out a Potions text.

“It won't kill me,” _but you will_. He didn't say it, didn't even think his words implied it.

Harry nodded and they went back to their books.

Days six and five went pretty much the same. Pomfrey had increased the levels and numbers of potions he took, hoping to build him up against the change because he would have no potion to keep him lucid or from harming himself.

Draco wished she'd leave them with him so that he could hide or destroy them. He didn't want to be strong and healthy. He didn't want to be Fenrir.

On day two Harry looked at him regretfully. McGonagall and Pomfrey had barred him from visiting on the morning of Draco's transformation.

Draco nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly that it was for Harry's own safety but shocked to realize this was the last time he would see the other boy.

Draco stopped him before the brunet could leave the ward, nervous about touching him. It may have only been a hand on his shoulder, but this was the first time in nearly a month that they'd touched.

The Gryffindor turned to him slowly, cautious about sudden movements so near the full moon, and Draco was unfathomably grateful.

He smiled tentatively, holding out his right hand. “I only ever wanted to be your friend,” he whispered.

Harry smiled back, clasping his hand tightly. “I'll see you on Tuesday, Draco.”

Draco's smile faded and he let his hand fall back to his side. “Good-bye...,Harry.”

.

Draco was awake long before Madam Pomfrey came to rouse him. Lying in the dark he could feel the difference already, something inside of him waking up. He forced himself to remain still when she finally spelled open the heavy curtains around his bed.

She was afraid of him, he could smell the acrid scent of her fear even across the careful distance she maintained.

Part of him wanted to attack her, bear her to the ground and see if death sweetened her smell. The need to defend himself was there too, clawing at his insides, even though another piece of him hoped she'd save them all and kill him now.

Her training finally overcame her emotion, reminding Draco that in her eyes he was still a child and a student in need of her care.

He took the first round of vials gratefully, swallowing the bitter potions with a sigh. They made him human, maybe would even keep him alive through the pain of the change.

It went against every new instinct to let her bind him and for that reason alone Draco allowed it. He stood perfectly still, not even taking a breath so that the once the ropes were tied they'd be tight around his respiration.

Safer for everyone, he thought just before she told him they were going to the Room of Requirement.

The ropes dug menacingly into his skin when Draco tensed. Gobsmacked, he could only stare at her until the need to breathe forced him to relax.

Rage swelled inside his bound chest. Did she even have a clue how inappropriate it would be to shut him inside that room?! Whether it would contain him or not! He almost snarled something about the falling standards at the school, if Dumbledore was still...

And just like that the anger was gone. Draco sagged in his ropes, ignoring the bite of the hemp.

If they saw fit to imprison him in the room that had started it all, it was their choice.

She warned him softly that he would spend the rest of the day and night, as well as most of the next, locked alone in the room. But she promised to return for him promptly and Draco could only nod, hoping she didn't come for him alone.

.

He closed his eyes as she walked the required three passes. He didn't want to think of what the Room would reveal when she finally opened the slowly emerging door.

Her heartbeat accelerated when she turned to him again. “I've asked for an environment that will serve your form tonight but still be comfortable for you tomorrow.”

Draco nodded reluctantly, stepping forward as she opened the door.

The air was sweet, a gentle breeze playing on his face, and Draco could hear the distant chatter of birds.

His restraints disappeared as he turned to take in his prison.

Draco shuddered as the familiar scene filled his eyes; the rocks, the trees, and stream were all exactly as he remembered. He turned with a jerk, question and accusation sharp on his tongue, but the safety of the seventh floor hall was gone and all around him there was only a living memory.

.

Her voice was hazy and far away but it was his name that she was calling in worry. Draco turned to her groggily. She was handling his wrists carefully, swishing her wand as she murmured charms interspersed with whispers for his attention.

“M'fine,” he responded, dragging his hands out of her hold. “It never works,” he tried to reassure before slipping back into unconsciousness.

.

Draco didn't know how much time had passed when he opened his eyes again. He was back in his secluded bed in the hospital wing and that alone was an almost welcome relief.

“Draco?”

He turned to find Madam Pomfrey carefully re-bandaging his wrists and it was a shock to realize he hadn't noticed her proximity.

He pulled his arms away from her, crossing them over his chest defensively.

She let him, looking oddly sad before taking his right hand back and pressing it between her own.

“I'm fine,” he shrugged.

“What do you remember?”

Draco shifted again, turning away from her earnest expression. “Nothing after the change. Blinding pain and then I was gone. Waking up this morning.”

“I've done what I can for these, Draco, but they've had time to set.” She stroked the thick white gauze around his wrists as though she could still see the lengthwise scars. “What did you use?”

Draco winced before clearing his throat. “It was a rock, Madam Pomfrey. A sharpened rock. Fen—he didn't care. I could only do so much before he found me and they always scabbed over before I could try again. I had to keep reopening them.”

Her sad frown was hard to bear and Draco wished she would just get angry with him instead.

“When did you first try to kill yourself?”

Draco flushed. “Five months ago. Fenrir knew no one was coming for me, so he could...” he broke off, reliving the purely sadistic pleasure in the older wolf's voice when he'd declared Draco his.

“It took me two weeks to sharpen one,” he snorted suddenly. “They kept busting apart, or I couldn't find another to use as a whetstone. But even then it takes a lot of force to cut through skin with stone.” He fidgeted with the end of the wrapping self-consciously. “That's why none of the cuts are straight.”

She obviously didn't want to leave him alone after that but Draco was tired and still aching and he didn't spend the first sixteen years of his life as the self-centered Malfoy scion for nothing.

The nurse agreed on the proviso that he spent the rest of the evening sleeping.

It wasn't hard to pretend that was what he was going to do. He had so many thoughts and reactions that need sorting out and he knew she'd give him no peace otherwise.

For once, the creature inside craved peace.

.

Soft footsteps woke him from a light doze a few hours later. It was disturbing that he knew it was Harry by his scent as much as by instinct. He was only surprised it'd taken the other boy this long.

The curtain rustled in the dark and a deeper shadow stepped into his space.

“Draco?”

He almost laughed, a snide 'who else' on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't risk Harry leaving.

“Your wand, Harry. Keep it low or she'll see.”

Pale light sparked near the floor and didn't move even when the Gryffindor stood.

It was hard not to reprimand him for leaving his only weapon behind, but in the faint illumination the other boy's green eyes stood out like fire.

From his safe spot nested in his pillows, Draco gestured for him to sit on the end of the bed.

He regretted it as soon as Harry sat down; tension that was negligible before suddenly felt like it might choke him.

Alone in the dark with Harry Potter in his bed. Draco was afraid he might start laughing hysterically.

But that might be good too. Something Fenrir would never consider. He wanted to mention it to Harry, that he wasn't his maker, but he didn't want the other boy actively considering it.

But there was more on his mind, things he needed to ask that only Harry might actually answer for him.

“He kept me in the Forbidden Forest, didn't he?” Might as well start at the beginning, confirm whether it had been complete coincidence when the Room formed that clearing.

He could feel how tense Harry was even though they were feet apart. “You don't have to answer that. I knew as soon as I walked into the Room of Requirement.”

“Did,” Harry's nervous swallow was loud in their small space. “Did it take you back there?”

Draco's throat was too tight to respond so he just nodded even though he knew Harry could barely see it.

Tentative fingers slid over his ankle and tangled with Draco's when he reached down to stop the contact.

He knew he should let go, shouldn't encourage Harry in whatever his scheme was, but his hand was so warm and human and Draco hadn't felt that in a long time. He wished his heartbeat would slow down even as he tightened his fingers around Harry's.

“I don't think she realized,” he whispered into the dark. “Merciful Merlin, surely she wouldn't have locked me inside.”

Soft fingers traveled over his bandages, Harry squeezing his hand as he measured the length of them.

Draco flushed in shame, ducking his head. “They were right where I left them. Like I really was there again and not just where the Room provided.” He looked up at Harry's shadow in the dark. “Why would it bring them too?”

Harry scooted closer and Draco didn't even twitch. Harry was safe and warm and in the dark it was like nothing else existed.

“I should have been safe here,” Draco whispered finally. “It was safe, until I let them in.” He snorted softly, the warm scent of the Gryffindor all around him. “It makes sense that way. So close to safety and I never even knew it. Wouldn't have been allowed in even if I did.”

He frowned, scooting closer to Harry carefully. “I should have gone to Dumbledore. I knew there would be consequences, even that Fenrir might have been one of them. But Pure-bloods aren't supposed to be attacked or turned except in defense so I reckoned it would be alright.

“My mission was completed so my family should have been safe.”

Harry's hand flexed in his, reminding Draco to loosen his grip.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to..”

“You didn't hurt me, Draco,” Harry whispered, stroking Draco's knuckles with his thumb.

It was strange, but nice. It even tickled a little so Draco didn't stop the gesture.

“You said you knew Greyback was a threat?”

Draco nodded, shuddering and clutching Harry's hand closer.

“How?”

Draco shook his head, pulling from Harry's comforting warmth. Harry didn't stop him and soon Draco was surrounded by his pillows again. “No, Harry. You don't need to know that.”

Harry slid closer to him again, backing Draco into the headboard before a restraining hand stopped him. “I want to know,” he whispered before moving Draco's hand from his chest.

Draco shook as the other boy settled in beside him, fear and need battling inside of him. “Don't,  
Harry.”

The brunet took his hand again, looping their arms together so that they were touching from shoulder to knee. “Do you want to know how we found you?”

Draco jerked, turning to face the Gryffindor, ignoring the rather intimate distance between them. “Yes,” he breathed.

Warm fingers tightened around his again. “Your magic, Draco.”

“What? But I didn't–”

“No, not actively. Not with your wand. But when you hurt yourself,” his fingers stroked over Draco's bandages. “Or maybe even when he hurt you,” he ignored Draco's flinch and the blond was wholly grateful. “Your magic saved you, protected you like it does when we're young,” he explained gently.  
“And it cried out for a protector.”

Draco sniffed and hunched his shoulders, leaning into Harry and closing his eyes against the tide of emotion. “He used to watch me. When Aunt Bella came to the manor, he came too. At first it was... I was used to the attention. Malfoy heir and all.” He felt Harry nod against his shoulder and it gave him the courage to go on. “But after I was given my task it changed. He followed me, a constant shadow when there was no one there to see. Whispering all the things the Dark Lord would let him do to me if I failed.”

It took a few minutes to gather his words again, Harry's presence strong and silent, waiting for him.

“I think even if I had succeeded, the Dark Lord would have given me to Fenrir anyway. He doesn't care that the Pure-blood families are disappearing even without polluting them.”

Harry was silent when he finished explaining and for one startling moment Draco feared the boy had fallen asleep and not heard any of it. There was no way he could say it again. But then he became aware of the way Harry's thumb was passing over his knuckles again and he took heart.

“It's scary that you think this was inevitable,” Harry finally whispered, pulling Draco into his arms slowly, careful to let him resist if he wanted.

Draco didn't, turning onto his left hip to let Harry cradle him against his chest. It was nice, warm, and Draco thought the brunet smelled safe; though in the next second he wondered how he knew what that smelled like. He just knew that it was one of his deepest memories and he thought it would be highly inappropriate to tell Harry that he reminded Draco of his mother.

.

Harry was already there by the time Draco woke up the next morning. The blond spent ten minutes trying not to laugh as Madam Pomfrey lectured the Gryffindor about proper behavior in hospital and how he shouldn't keep patients from resting.

Harry made various excuses before finally giving in and apologizing.

Draco couldn't help smirking when the other boy slipped through his curtains.

“You're finally awake.”

“I needed my rest. Someone kept me up late last night.”

Harry smiled, not at all apologetic as he took his usual seat.

Draco tried not to feel disappointed with the re-established distance after the closeness they had shared in the dark. It was too soon for him to want any sort of contact anyway... except it seemed he craved a human connection now and Harry was his only opportunity for it.

He was slightly mollified when the other boy kicked off his trainers and propped his stockinged feet on the bed within reach of Draco's own. Draco watched to make sure the brunet was invested in his book before shifting his foot close enough that they touched. It wasn't much, but it was a connection.

Draco steadfastly ignored the small quirk of Harry's lips.

.

Over the next few weeks Draco lost himself in the innocent touches, letting them soothe something inside of him that had gone without for over a year. Once again, he thought of his mother. Though not free with her affection, she always seemed to know when he needed it the most. And he needed it now.

At least that's why Draco told himself he allowed the little touches. Shoulders brushing or fingers twining. Even the soft smiles that seemed to make Harry sit closer and hold him tighter. He needed it was all and Harry seemed perfectly willing to give it to him.

It made him feel human again.

.

It wasn't until he woke up the morning of the new moon that Draco realised what the difference was, why over the last few days he'd been feeling better than he had in months. It was hard to contain the excitement until Harry arrived and Madam Pomfrey left them to their customary visit.

But Harry was on time and Pomfrey feeling generous so he spoke up as soon as they're alone. “Will you do something with me tonight?”

“What,” Harry asked, looking curiously leery.

“I'm not telling. It's a secret.” He regretted his words immediately. Seeming to trick the Boy-Who-Lived was not conducive to getting what he wanted and he could see Harry struggling with himself before he finally nodded and claimed one of his usual seats at Draco's side.

It was almost impossible not to fidget, nervous energy crackling along his skin in waves that he appreciated Harry ignoring.

Soon he was caught up in his Potions text and forgot to hope that Harry skipped page 394 in his DADA book. A little reading would give the game away.

Madam Pomfrey served his lunch early, only explaining that he'd need his rest when Draco questioned the vial of Dreamless Sleep she'd left beside his plate.

Harry left him to his rest, quietly promising to return later.

Draco watched him close the curtains, mind filled with plans as he slipped into unconsciousness.

.

Pomfrey woke Draco for his dinner; roast beef and potatoes, fresh creamy butter, and sweet fruit tarts. Draco raised an eyebrow as she set the tray at his bedside, if he didn't know any better he would think she meant to put some weight on him. Except he knew that was her intention.

But she left him to it and he knew that would be the last he would see of her for the evening. She knew what tonight would mean for him.

Still, he made Harry sneak through the ward, wand light dowsed as though the matron would discover them any moment. Secrecy was good for Gryffindors.

Harry only looked at him like he was a little bit mental when Draco burst into a grateful run across the snow-covered Quidditch pitch, but Draco couldn't help it. He was free.

“Hurry,” he called to the lollygagging brunet.

“Why? There's no one out,” Harry answered, still dragging his feet through the drifts.

“Exactly,” Draco nodded, turning to look up at the sky. “All alone.”

Harry looked at him before looking at the sky as well. But he didn't see anything.

Draco shook his head with a smile. “It doesn't matter. You've your wand? Summon brooms for us. Tonight I could fly.”

Harry shook his head as well, _Accio_ ing two of the school's brooms. “You're in a mood tonight.”

“It's the moon,” Draco whispered, straddling his broom.

Harry looked up again before meeting Draco's eyes. “There's no moon tonight.”

Draco grinned. “Isn't it glorious?”

Snow flew as he kicked off of the ground, biting wind whipping through his hair and making his eyes tear but it was a completely worthwhile experience.

“Hurry, Potter,” he yelled to the stationary boy. “You'll catch your death before much longer.”

In seconds the Gryffindor was hovering beside him, casting charms to keep the late December chill at bay.

Draco couldn't feel it. “Come on,” he whispered over the wind. “I'll race you.” He didn't wait for Harry, didn't even care to win, he just wanted to feel the rush again.

They soared and dived, tagged and teased, Harry keeping pace with him as they looped around each other. It was perfect.

Draco spiraled to the ground in the middle of the pitch, the snow a soft cushion as he sprawled beneath the moonless sky.

Harry landed beside him, sitting in the snow with a grimace of distaste.

Draco smiled. “It's possible this has been the best night of my life.” He frowned before correcting himself. “Of my new life.”

“Why,” Harry asked, conjuring a blanket beneath them.

Draco shrugged, sitting up to stare down at his lap. “It's the first night since he bit me, since all of this started even, that I've been me. That there's nothing inside trying to claw its way out.” His eyes darted up to meet Harry's. “There's only me.”

Harry smiled at him oddly before leaning into Draco's space.

Draco jerked away, every instinct flaring in alarm. “Wh-what are you doing?” he choked.

“I just thought—weren't we?” Harry whispered, reaching for him carefully.

In the dark it could have been Fenrir's hand grasping at him. And that led only to pain.

Draco ran.

.

Madam Pomfrey merely raised an eyebrow at him the next morning when Draco asked her to keep Harry away. Clearly she'd been anticipating a much bloodier end to the strangeness of their civility.

Draco ignored her too, eating his meals and taking his potions, reading his books as though he were alone. It was frustrating that only a few hours ago that had been a wonderful thing. Now he was and wasn't. The beast inside was slowly waking again and he feared that this would be the rest of his life. One night of glory, one night of horror, and all the rest in shadow.

It was no way to live.

And as disgusting as it was, he missed the comfort of Harry's presence.

It was worse when he could feel Harry pressing against the wards, trying to get through to talk to him, maybe even touch him again. But no kissing. Or whatever else he might be thinking of doing.

Draco wouldn't mind being touched again.

. 

Whatever she set up during the day was taken down again at night. Draco appreciated being able to use the loo without losing a leg. He appreciated it more that Harry respected the boundary of his curtains when he came every night after curfew.

He could smell the familiar scent of the other boy through the heavy brocade and it made him wish he were different. That 6th year had been different and maybe now it wouldn't be so complicated.

Except they wouldn't be where they were now if it were different.

Draco forced himself to ignore the feel and scent of Harry only a few feet away, pretend he couldn't hear the other boy talking and apologising.

But Harry's words reached him whether Draco meant to pay attention to them or not. Maybe even better because he didn't want to be effected by them. Draco listened in growing remorse, wishing he had at least let the brunet explain himself rather than running away from the situation.

Even with that realisation weighing on him, it was another two days before Draco could act on his guilt.

“Harry,” he called softly, waiting for the other boy to duck his head through the curtain before reaching out for him.

Harry took his hand cautiously, lacing their fingers together before settling on the bed beside Draco.

The Gryffindor could only stand the silence for so long before he had to try and apologise or explain again.

Draco smiled, tightening his fingers around Harry's. “I know, I heard before. And me too. I shouldn't have...” he looked down at their joined hands, choosing different words. “I shouldn't have taken so long to let you in again. It just...” he swallowed loudly. “I can feel it,” he whispered, gesturing to his chest. “I can feel the monster rising again and I want...”

He looked at Harry sadly, “I can't...what you want, but will you let me try something different?”

Harry frowned but nodded and Draco swung his legs across Harry's lap carefully. It gave him the illusion of sitting in the other boy's lap without the actual awkward sexuality of it. Draco pressed himself against Harry's chest quietly, wrapping himself in warmth and safety.

Thick fingers combed through his hair the same way Pansy's used to, sliding down the same trail over and over. It took a few minutes for Draco to realize what path Harry's fingertips were following.

“There are more,” he whispered, clenching his free hand.

“What are they?” Harry asked, spreading his fingers.

Draco released his other hand, taking both and pressing each finger in the proper place. “He became quite skilled with healing charms. I just couldn't ever find enough dittany.”

Harry's brows furrowed, his fingers following the long scars on Draco's scalp until the blond couldn't take it anymore and pulled his hands away.

“Mother always liked my hair longer anyway,” Draco whispered, forcing a smile. “Now Father will have to let her have her way.”

“If I can ever go home again,” he gasped, tightening his arms around Harry's neck and pulling himself closer. “But they can't ever know. The bite is bad enough. Everything else...” Draco shook his head, rubbing his cheek against the soft cotton of Harry's shirt.

Harry's arms tightened around his waist, holding him closer to the warmth the blond had been missing.

Draco squirmed closer still, pressing himself further into Harry's safe heat. It was uncomfortable, he pressed against Harry in strange places, but the Gryffindor didn't stop touching him. Gentle fingers slid over the bumps of his spine, catching and dragging the cloth of his shirt. For the touch, it was easy for Draco to ignore the way it bared his skin.

They sat for ages it seemed, Draco soaking in the comfort of the other boy and Harry providing it easily.

Draco forgot himself, cuddled into Harry's chest like a child, fidgeting like a child as parts of his body fell asleep. He tried to shift carefully but that didn't stop the hardness that grew and pressed into the back of his thigh.

It was harder to hold still with an erect cock pushing against him. Instinct commanded that he run but everything he knew from his time with Fenrir demanded that an erection was to be taken care of quickly.

Draco tried to move his weight off of Harry's lap discreetly, prayed that somehow Harry wouldn't realise he could feel his rapidly growing erection, even while the shallow breathing in his ear told a different story. “H-Harry, I...”

“I'm sorry,” the other boy whispered against his skin.

Draco fought when Harry tried to push him out of his lap, tightening his arms around Harry's neck. “No, I can...” he flushed, digging his teeth into his lower lip as he debated. But Harry would leave if he didn't do something.

It took some careful maneuvering but soon Draco had one thigh on each side of Harry's with his knees braced for leverage.

Green eyes blazed into his, two high points of colour on Harry's cheeks. Draco swallowed and took a shuddering breath before he began to move his hips.

He started out slowly at first, having no idea what Harry would prefer, but knowing the other boy would correct him soon enough. Fenrir had liked to make him fuck himself on his cock and Draco knew if he could just get it right now he wouldn't have to later.

He rolled his hips gently against the bulge in Harry's trousers, working himself harder and faster, needing to give Harry something in return for his calming touch earlier.

Rough hands gripped his hips, pulling Draco into Harry's lap greedily. Draco bit his lip harder, tasting blood as he tried to keep his movements smooth.

His stomach was crawling at the feel of a hard cock pressing so close to vulnerable places, if he could just get Harry to come they would be okay.

Harry grunted in his ear, his nails digging into Draco's hips.

Nausea licked at his insides while Draco took steadying breaths. It was alright, he was fine.

He was okay until Harry shifted his weight and bore him to the mattress.

Draco shuddered under the other boy's weight, hyper aware of the hard cock pinning him down under Harry's thrusts.

Draco screamed, magic lashing out as he fought against Harry's weight. He tried to close his legs to no avail and soon the presence between them was too much. He'd barely turned aside when his stomach rebelled and he began to vomit.

Lights flicked on all over the ward as warnings flared.

Draco winced, drawing himself as far away from Harry as he could get. The pillows he had nested in before were no comfort now but they hid him.

He watched Harry jerk away, ignored the boy's apologetic look as he hurried out of the wing.

Draco tried to still his trembling as Pomfrey bustled toward him. He couldn't hide that he was a mess though, covered in sweat and tears, undigested food and blood where he'd bitten through his lip.

A dream, he whispered as she questioned him, wand flicking to clean him up and summon what looked like every potion in the hospital. It was just a bad dream.

.

Madam Pomfrey added doses of Calming Draughts to his daily potion regimen. And Dreamless Sleep each night whether he wanted it or not. Draco let her. Perhaps because of the lie he'd told or because those few seconds with Harry had shocked his mind and body into past responses, but Draco's nightmares did come back.

They came back and Harry didn't.

Pomfrey refused the first time Draco asked her to send for Harry, rightly assuming his presence had something to do with Draco's obviously deteriorating mental state.

Except Draco kept asking.

He was resting when Harry came in, or pretending to so the matron would leave him be, but the familiar scent of the other boy grabbed his attention quickly.

“Harry?” he smiled, reaching for the other boy's hand.

“Are you alright,” the Gryffindor asked carefully, dragging his chair back into position by Draco's bed.

“Yes, I'm sorry,” Draco whispered. “It was fine--I was fine--until...”

“Until I forced myself on you. I'm sorry, Draco. I should have realized you couldn't do anything like that.” He frowned down at their clasped hands. “That's why I've stayed away.”

Draco winced. “I tried to get Madam Pomfrey to call you in sooner. I didn't want you to blame yourself for something I had done.” He tightened his hold on Harry's hand. “She has me on potions now,” he whispered. “I won't react so badly again, I promise.”

Harry's frown only deepened and Draco's heart began to beat faster. “Harry,” he urged. “I could...if you still wanted.”

Harry shook his head. “Draco, that's..that's not why I come to see you.”

Draco frowned, drawing his hand away from Harry's. “But I-I can, Harry.” He slid closer to the edge of the bed. “And you've been really good to me—with me. I mean, you've been good with me. Patient. Kind.”

He glanced around the ward, hoping Madam Pomfrey had left them to themselves, before settling himself in Harry's lap. “And I can do this for you.”

He pressed himself closer, flexing his hips until Harry's penis started to react. Draco ran his fingers through Harry's messy hair. “I can make you come, Harry. I know how,” he whispered, nodding as if that would emphasise his point.

Harry gaped at him, clearly at a loss as Draco moved against him.

“Just...no more climbing on top of me. Or,” he flushed brightly. “Just don't hold me down anymore, okay?”

Harry nodded finally, stilling the slow rock of Draco's hips. “You're alright like this though?”

“Yeah,” Draco smiled. “I can do this.”

“It's a start then,” Harry whispered, brushing Draco’s hair away from his face. “I won't hurt you like he did, Draco.”

Draco swallowed, nodding jerkily and shifting back to the bed. “I don't want to talk about that anymore. Bad enough you know, saw when you found me. And then my reaction the other night...” he snorted in disgust.

He glanced around the darkening ward, “Will you come back later? She'll be along with my potions soon.”

Harry nodded and stood slowly, a frown marring his forehead before he stepped away from the bed.

Draco answered his last questioning look with a tremulous smile. He hoped Madam Pomfrey didn't forget his Calming Draught tonight.

.

Draco claimed an extra shakiness brought on by Harry's visit, it wasn't a lie and it got him another small vial of calming potion.

It helped steady his hands as he waited for Harry to sneak back in.

But it would be simple once Harry arrived, the ground rules were already set even. He could do this.

And then Harry was slipping between the curtains of his bed and the waiting was over.

He didn't mean to but his eyes fastened on each move the other boy made. Tracked them and compared them to those that had come before, trying to know how to react.

Harry took his hand carefully, stroking each finger before lacing them together. He smiled as Draco relaxed into the touch. “I promised not to hurt you.”

“I know,” Draco nodded quickly, reaching for Harry's other hand. “How do you wanna...” He glanced over his shoulder, indicating the bed.

“Actually, I was thinking that jumping back into the same situation as last time is a bad idea,” Harry whispered.

“But you said—And I,” Draco swallowed. “I can be okay.” He held up his hands. “See, not even shaking.”

Harry laughed quietly. “How much potion did it take though?”

“Enough,” Draco sneered, reaching for Harry's hands again. He slid one into his hair and let the other fall to wrap around his waist. He looked up into Harry's eyes. “I want this, the potion just lets my body forget why I shouldn't. I want you to touch me, Harry.”

Shaking hands smoothed through his hair and down his back, urging Draco closer and that was all he needed.

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's waist and pressed his face into the other boy's chest.

“Any other rules? No holding you down, never on bottom, anything else?” Harry asked softly.

Draco blinked, pulling away to look up at him again. “No kissing. And sex—we...I...No. I'm going to say no now. I can't—that's just...No.”

“Okay, okay,” Harry whispered, running his hand through Draco's hair. “We don't even have to come close to it.”

Draco nodded, letting go of the other boy and scooting further onto the bed. “Then those are all of the rules.”

Harry nodded as well, climbing to kneel beside Draco on the bed. “Touch,” he whispered, sliding his fingertips over Draco's cheekbone and into his hair. “Just touch.” His right hand passed over Draco's shoulder and down his arm to hold his hand again.

Draco swallowed, tightening his fingers around Harry's. “Yes,” he breathed, nuzzling against Harry's wrist.

“Draco,” Harry began cautiously. “I'd like to renegotiate the 'no kissing' rule.” He pressed his lips against the apple of Draco's left cheek before the blond could respond and moved on before he could be stopped.

“H-Harry!” Draco sucked in a shaky breath as Harry's mouth moved down his throat. “It's not a negotiation if you do it without my agreement.”

“Hmm, I was always bad with things like that,” Harry laughed, sifting his fingers through strands of blond hair before he pulled away to look into grey eyes. “Anything that's too much, just say so.”

Draco blinked, gathering his courage before he nodded. “Kiss me again then.”

Harry smiled, applying his lips and tongue to Draco's collarbone.

It was nice, very nice, Draco thought fuzzily as he leaned into the soft touches. But it wasn't what they were there for, he reminded himself sharply. “Harry,” he asked softly.

“Mm?”

“Are you—is it?”

Harry frowned down at him. “Yeah.”

“Then we should, I should, it's what you came for.” He meant it, and would follow through, but Draco couldn't bring himself to touch Harry's zip or even to look and see if it bulged.

Harry's hands stilled. “I came to make you feel good. Not for whatever you could stand to do to me.”

Draco shivered, catching Harry's hands again. “This feels good, Harry. I like it when you touch me.” He looked around them quickly. “And I want to give you something for it. I can make you feel good too. Just I can't...there are rules,” he breathed. “N-no kissing, no holding me down, no s-s...”

“I know the rules, Draco,” Harry promised. He settled back against Draco's pillow nest, propping his feet so that his legs were spread. “Come here,” he coaxed.

“Harry,” Draco mumbled, eyeing Harry's open thighs. “I don't want to hurt you, Harry.”

“You won't. And this doesn't break any of the rules. You'll be on top,” he reached for Draco's hands and pulled him closer. “You can even hold me down if that makes you feel safer.”

Draco knelt shyly between his knees, staring at Harry in growing trepidation.

Harry touched him lightly, petting him, stroking, anything that let Draco calm down enough to accept a firmer touch. Finally, Draco's trembling stopped and Harry offered him a small smile. “And fully clothed, so I promise no sex.”

Draco cracked a weak smile at the poor joke, letting Harry maneouver and settle him between his splayed thighs. He kept a conscious distance between himself and Harry moving under him, focusing on the pillows beneath Harry's head rather than the erection pressing into him.

Harry's movements were slow, languid, as he built toward that plateau, his hands sliding over Draco's shoulders, his thighs pressing against Draco's hips.

Draco didn't like it; it was confining, but safe somehow. And Harry liked it. He focused on that thought, eyes straying over the other boy's flushing face. Harry liked the press of him. He was making Harry feel good.

Draco smiled slowly, rocking his hips carefully against Harry's arching. A loud gasp filled the air around them and Draco faltered, certain it was a pained sound. “Harry?”

Harry's face relaxed from his pinched expression, a smile eclipsing everything else. “It's better when you participate,” he coached.

Draco nodded. “Fenrir liked it best when I did.”

“No, Draco,” Harry whispered. “He was wrong. You can't base anything good on what he wanted, only bad things.”

Draco frowned. “But the morning you found me, it felt nice at first. That was good.”

“Was it nice so that he could hurt you more after?”

Draco shrugged. “It was still nice.”

“It's supposed to be for the good all the way through,” Harry amended. “Not good in the beginning just so you can tear the other down better after.”

“Is this good then?” Draco asked with a slow roll of his hips.

“Yes,” Harry gasped, pressing closer again.

It was almost easy, with Harry beneath him, at his whim. Draco rocked harder, curious at the way Harry reacted. Even Harry's erection digging into him was different when it couldn't hurt him, when it wasn't a promise of more pain.

He almost laughed when Harry moaned and convulsed under him. Draco let him ride against him, drawing out the pleasure.

Pleasure. Draco could remember that he used to like the way it felt to come. That moment when he was only a small part of the universe and could be absorbed into it.

Harry collapsed under him afterward, a sweet, lazy smile on his face as he stroked Draco's ruffled hair out of his face.

“Did it—did I make you feel good?” Draco asked softly.

“Very good,” Harry assured.

Draco grinned, pressing a fleeting kiss against Harry's cheek.

Harry laughed, petting a gentle hand through Draco's hair. He wrapped his arms around the blond's back, holding him in place lightly.

Draco let him, pressing his face against Harry's vulnerable throat. He nuzzled carefully against Harry's soft skin.

“Draco,” Harry whispered, stroking Draco's back slowly.

“Mm?”

“Did you—you didn't come.”

It wasn't a question, but Draco couldn't have answered it if it had been. He tried to pull out of the other boy's arms but stopped when they tightened around him. “Harry,” he warned, gasping as he started to tremble.

Harry released him, sitting up quickly as Draco scrambled away. He grimaced at the mess in his pants, spelling it away before scooting closer to Draco again. He slid his hand down Draco's arm, clasping his hand. “Did you, do you not enjoy it?”

Draco winced. “Enjoy what?”

Harry snorted. “Being with me, like that.”

“I told you before that I like it when you touch me,” Draco whispered uncomfortably.

“But not touching me?”

Draco swallowed guiltily. “I liked bringing you pleasure. Because you touch me. And you don't hurt me.” He squeezed Harry's hand. “I liked it, Harry.”

“But you don't come?”

“Harry...I don't even get hard anymore,” he admitted softly.

“But you're...”

“Young? Broken?” Draco scoffed quietly. “Well trained.”

“Draco,” Harry grimaced. “You're not.”

“Yes, I am, and it's okay,” he smiled. “I don't mind helping you get off.”

Harry brushed his fingers over Draco's cheek. “Just so I'll touch you?”

“Yes,” Draco breathed, turning his face into Harry's touch, curling the fingers of his free hand over their joined hands.

“Okay,” Harry whispered, squeezing Draco's hand. “Okay.”

“You should go,” Draco murmured. “Madam Pomfrey will be making her rounds soon and I should be resting when she does.”

Harry nodded, climbing out of the bed carefully.

.

Madam Pomfrey didn't mention his untouched dose of sleeping potion and Draco didn't ask how much she knew about his and Harry's late-night activities. She still brought him a vial of it each night before curfew and Draco left it sitting on the nightstand.

Harry came back every night, touching and petting Draco like he needed before letting the blond get him off.

They didn't talk about it the day after, didn't acknowledge it beyond the light touches Draco preferred. They went on as they had before.

.

The day before Draco's second transformation Madam Pomfrey warned him to be careful. Cautioned him against letting his temper get the better of him. Draco wanted to laugh at her. He wasn't not going to bite Harry, for Merlin's sake.

Except these last few days he'd been more aggressive when Harry came to him at night, even forceful in driving Harry to his pleasure. What if, in the heat of Harry's touch, Draco accidentally bit him...

Harry didn't take it well when Draco ordered him out of the hospital ward, refused to go when the only reason for it was his own safety. It left Draco at a loss to protect him and only an extra Calming Draught kept him from an overreaction. The last thing he saw before slipping into a forced sleep was Harry's worried look as he left the room.

.

He was burning when he woke up, sweating and fevered and feeling so anxious inside that he wanted to ask for another potion to settle him.

The hospital was quiet; it was nearly dinnertime by the light coming through the high windows. He still had time yet.

The water was so icy Draco almost expected it to steam off of his skin but he left it as cold as possible and prayed it would cool the fire inside of him.

Pomfrey had warned him of everything she knew he could expect, she would have no answers to his questions. There was only the hot ache building inside of him. A dangerous, nearly overwhelming need.

Draco immersed himself in the water, hoping it would help him regain some semblance of normality.

It was only natural that Harry would find him then.

Draco heard him enter, could smell the scent of him even through the soapy and overly medicinal steam. He didn't turn, trying to ignore the idiot Gryffindor's presence as long as possible.

He couldn't for long. The scent of Harry's growing arousal filled the small stall, overwhelming Draco's better judgment and, even more shockingly, flooding his cock with blood.

“We told you to stay away, Harry,” he growled finally, pressing his hot face into the cool pressure of the water.

Harry's fingers on his shoulder were hot, even against Draco's elevated temperature. They didn't hurt but the weight of them felt like they might have been meant to. Rage built deep in Draco's gut.

“Go away, Harry.”

“Come on, Draco,” he cajoled, stepping closer. Invading Draco's space.

Draco jerked around with a snarl, fingers curled defensively at his sides.

Harry stood with his palms raised in supplication; non-threatening, though his proximity grated on all of Draco's senses.

They stared at each other for ages, waiting for the other to make a move. The only sound was that of the water pounding over Draco's back and even that faded into white noise the longer they stood there.

“Why did you come back, Harry? We told you it was dangerous.”

Harry frowned. “You're not going to hurt me, Draco. Why are you so worried now?”

Draco blinked, thrown by the question. “Because I could hurt you. I'm not safe.”

Harry shrugged, eyeing him calmly.

Draco sneered. “That's right, Potter... You think I'm your tame little wolf cub.” He took a step closer to the other boy. “But what do you say to my need to hurt you right now? To fuck you and break you. To make you bleed for me.”

Harry stared at him, shock stark in his scent.

Draco backed off instinctively.

“You have absolutely no filter between your brain and your mouth, do you?” Harry stepped closer, invading Draco's personal space again.

Draco backed up completely, pressing himself against the chilly tile.

Harry stepped closer, almost under the spray of water. His hands slid over Draco's shoulders, pressing him into the wall. “You have no idea...”

“Draco, I've brought you a clean pair of pyjamas. I'll leave them here on the—Mr. Potter! What are you doing?”

Harry jerked away from him, turning to stutter some excuse and allowing Draco the opportunity to hide himself from the Matron's eyes.

Draco watched her order the other boy out of the ward, grateful relief warring with the heavy arousal he could only pray his hands kept hidden.

.

Draco was sleeping fitfully when Harry snuck into the ward later that night. It was stupid and incredibly dangerous tonight of all nights. But Harry was not made a Gryffindor for nothing. Fortunately the other boy didn't make it beyond the curtain that shielded Draco from prying eyes before the blond reined in his defensive reaction. His growls didn't slow the idiot down though, in seconds, warm skin was pressing against him.

Draco panicked. The last time someone came for him in his sleep it was Fenrir and Draco hadn't regained consciousness for two days.

Rough hands held him down, surprisingly effectively, while a soft voice whispered to him.

Not Fenrir. There had been nothing soft in that man.

Draco shook with adrenaline as his heart rate slowed. “Harry?”

“Who else would come here?”

“No one who expected to survive the encounter,” he snapped, shoving the brunet's hands away.

“I just wanted to talk to you again. I didn't think Pomfrey would let me in after this afternoon.” Harry looked sheepish in the dim light, far too earnest to be lying.

“You crawled into my bed in the middle of the night to talk to me? After what happened this afternoon?”

“Remus is coming tomorrow. I wanted to make sure you would be nice to him.”

“You think I should be nice to him? Because he's filthy like me?” Draco turned away, staring at the high ceiling. “You're a nutter.”

“Draco, you're not filthy,” Harry whispered, pressing against Draco's side. “You're not a monster either,” he laughed softly.

Draco shook his head, speechless in the face of Harry's blind idealism.

A warm hand slid over his chin, drawing Draco's face back toward Harry. “You're really not. Maybe it's just your new sparkling personality, but you're not a monster.”

Warm lips pressed against his before Harry settled above him. It was strange, caging, but somehow so much safer than Draco could remember. It was better for it. He surged up against the Gryffindor, wrapping shaking arms around his neck to hold him close.

Harry accepted it, pressing tighter against Draco. Kissing him like it wasn't the first time Draco'd let him do it.

Draco had never kissed a boy before, found even the act of kissing a little unnatural. It was too sweet, too intimate to share, but he kind of liked it. Tonight he even liked the weight of Harry pressing into him, holding him down, managing him.

Except the press of Harry's cock against his hip still made Draco nervous. Strange nausea licked at his insides as his nerves went haywire.

“Wa-wait, Harry,” he gasped, pressing the other boy away from him. “Breaking the 'no kissing' rule is one thing. But the others...I-I, that's, no, Harry. No.”

Harry frowned, his eyes clear in the moonlight that seemed to fill the ward. Finally he nodded, running a slow hand through Draco's hair. “Okay, that's fine.”

It was suddenly colder when Harry moved off of him, but Draco could breathe again. “I'm sorry.”

Harry laughed. “I think that's the first time you've ever said that to me. And for something that needs no apology.” He tugged on Draco hip, trying to turn him so that they were face to face. “Come here, Draco.”

It took him a minute, but Draco did shift onto his side uncomfortably. “What?”

Harry smiled, a quick flash of white in their darkness. “No pressure this way. Just a snog.”

Draco smirked self-deprecatingly. “Snogging might be too much still.”

“Why?”

“It's nothing.” Draco shook his head, pulling Harry close again for that snog.

Harry let him, sliding his mouth over Draco's easily, pressing close again.

Draco kissed him slowly, testing how it felt and the way Harry reacted.

Both were good. Harry's kisses were different when Draco was sharing them and the way he moved... like just rubbing against Draco was still good enough. The weight of his erection was familiar, easy to ignore now that he wasn't pinning Draco down with it. It even felt nice, pressing into him lightly, with no other purpose behind it.

Except...

Draco pulled away quickly, staring at Harry in shock. “You should go, Harry.”

“What? Why?” Harry asked, sliding closer again.

“Don't,” Draco hissed.

“What's the mat...” except now Harry knew. Knew how evil and disgusting Draco was and the evidence was pressing into his thigh.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered again, squeezing his eyes shut because he knew how sexual enjoyment should be punished.

“Draco,” Harry's voice was soft, soothing. Draco didn't like it, if he was going to be hurt he didn't want it sugarcoated.

“I'm sorry, I'll be good. I'll be better next time.” He could feel tears flooding his eyes and it was the last thing he wanted to let Harry see.

“You're apologising for nothing,” Harry breathed.

“Please go, Harry.”

“Draco, it's fine.”

“Don't patronize me, Harry! I know, I'm not supposed to feel anything.” Draco shook his head, drawing his arms up around himself. “Next time I won't. You won't ever touch me again, I know. But I can learn to control it again.”

“How can you not feel anything? You're a 17-year-old boy, Draco.” Soft hands slid through Draco's hair, petting him slowly. “It's a pleasurable activity, you should find pleasure in it.”

“No, I don't. I'm not. Ever. It's not good, Harry.”

Harry pressed a firm hand against Draco's hard flesh, squeezing the blond's cock through the thin layer of his pajamas. “It feels good, because it's natural. Normal, Draco. The way my hand feels on your cock,” Harry gave him another squeeze. “It's supposed to make you feel good, make you want to come.”

“H-Harry, please, you have to make me stop,” Draco gasped, wriggling against the light touch.

“Shh, you're okay. I promise.”

Draco shook his head, slowly, afraid to dislodge Harry's grip, worried that any move would remind the other boy that he's Draco Malfoy, that he wasn't supposed to feel good. Terrified that any second the Gryffindor would remember that it was supposed to hurt.

Except it didn't. Harry's hand on him was burning hot and felt like it could milk the soul out of him. If werewolves had souls. Except it wasn't his soul Harry wanted, it was the very flesh of him, a part of Draco that even he hadn't seen in longer than he could say.

“Do-don't, Harry.”

“It's okay,” Harry soothed, pressing the fingertips of his free hand against the side of Draco's face. “Draco, please let me make you feel good.”

Draco gasped, hips moving lazily under Harry's hand. “That's—it does, Harry.”

“Will you let me?”

Draco didn't know what to say. It felt good; it was wrong, but it felt good. He couldn't figure out why Harry wanted to do this. Except that it was all a part of his new game, whatever game the supposed Gryffindor wanted to play with him now.

So he couldn't say no.

“Al-al—Okay,” he whispered softly, looking back into Harry's watching eyes. “Yes, Harry.”

The brunet smiled at him, squeezing Draco again, stroking through the way Draco's hips rolled into the touch. “That's it,” he whispered, sliding his fingers into the waistband of Draco's pajama bottoms.

“Wait!” Draco gasped, grabbing at Harry's wandering hand. “Just wait,” he breathed.

“You've wanked before, Draco, this is the same,” Harry admonished him gently.

“Yes, but it's been...I'm not exactly sure how long actually,” Draco whispered into the dark. “And I've certainly never been tossed off.”

“You'll like it then,” Harry promised. “Exactly like wanking, but with none of the effort.” His hand slid over the head of Draco's prick, stroking over his slick crown and working the loose folds of his foreskin.

Within seconds Draco was grabbing his wrist again. “Wait, wait just a moment.”

“Too much for you already,” Harry smirked.

“Piss off, Potter,” Draco hissed, taking another deep breath before allowing the other boy to move again.

“Mmm, I like it when you say it that way,” Harry whispered, pressing his hard cock into Draco's hip as if he needed to prove his point.

“I feel that,” Draco managed, trying not to twitch too obviously. Harry's hand felt incredible on his skin, touching him, pleasuring him. “Harry...Harry.. kiss me again, Harry?”

Harry smiled again, leaning closer to press his lips against Draco's. He licked and sucked at Draco's mouth, tongue thrusting in sync with his hand moving on Draco's cock.

Draco's hands gripped the sheets of his bed, anything to keep from losing what little control he had these days and thrusting into Harry's hand like a mindless beast.

Except Harry was panting in his ear, whispering filthy things like how much he wanted Draco to come, to fuck his hand until he couldn't hold back anymore. And that just wasn't the sort of thing that one expected Harry Potter to be whispering, even when he was tossing off Draco Malfoy. It was more than Draco's tense state could bear, he gasped, coming in the other boy's hand with a breathy whimper.

“That's it,” Harry whispered, savoring every second of Draco's orgasm until the blond began to twitch for another reason. He pressed his face into Draco's throat, sucking in a deep breath of his sweaty skin.

Draco laughed, wrapping his arms around the other boy. He could feel Harry's erection still sliding against him, but it didn't seem so bad now, not as threatening when he was focused on Draco's pleasure rather than his own.

It was a completely new experience.

They dozed together for a little while, hands clutching at each other even in sleep. It was kind of nice, Draco thought when he began to stir again. Fenrir never held him, never gave even a glimpse of comfort, not until the day he'd raped more than just Draco's body.

It was a thought he'd had many times, always in the dark when he was alone, except he was not alone tonight and Harry needed to wake up before Pomfrey caught them.

It was tempting to push the other boy off of his bed, for old time's sake, but Harry looked oddly calm to be lying in a bed with a potentially murderous werewolf. It was hard to rationalize hurting him like he used to do without thought.

But the sun was coming and Harry had to be going.

“Harry,” he breathed carefully, watching dark lashes twitch and squeeze closed. He couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. Harry was a terrible faker. “I know you're awake,” he whispered, poking the tip of the other boy's nose. “Harry...Harry?”

“'m 'wake,” Harry muttered, rubbing his face against their pillow before pulling Draco against his chest like an oversized stuffed bear.

It was so incongruous that Draco couldn't help barking out a laugh and pushing the sleeping boy away again. “Get up, you lazy sod. You'll have us both expelled for immoral conduct.”

Harry rolled over, a dissatisfied expression stealing over his features. “They won't expel me. They're all still waiting for me to save their arses.”

He was out of the bed before Draco could take back the rough tone if not his teasing words. After the rather one-sided attention of the previous night, to be so ungrateful when Harry had been kind to him, it was simply asking for whatever punishment Harry chose to deal out.

“Harry, I'm sorry,” he whispered, reaching out for the other boy's hand. Harry had never asked for his obeisance; would possibly even punish his offering it; but Draco had to try, at least a little. He bowed his head, tilting it enough to show his throat even though he knew Harry wouldn't really understand. It was something, something to appease them both, because he was sorry to have upset the other boy.

“Draco...” Warm fingers slid through his hair before gripping his chin and tilting his head up so that they could look at each other. “Don't.” The kisses came slowly, gentler even than those they had shared earlier in the night.

They made something inside of Draco ache. They made him want...something. Harry's hands slid down his back, pressing into perpetually tense muscles, forcing their fronts together even as the other boy kissed him deeper.

He was beginning to appreciate the personal touch of lips, as a way of giving himself to someone without fear of pain, as a way of connecting with another person—with Harry.

It wasn't so bad with Harry.

He pushed the brunet away gently. “You have to go, Harry. Pomfrey will be in soon to begin her day and she has to find me alone.” He smiled sadly. “Today I have to be alone.”

Harry frowned, hands tightening on Draco's back. “It's not good for anyone to spend so much time alone. I was glad when they told me Remus would be coming. Even if only to help you learn to deal with the wolf, he'll be a good friend.” He smiled crookedly, squeezing Draco closer. “He was one of my dad's best friends.”

“I don't doubt his care for you, Harry,” Draco whispered slowly. “Just any attention for me.”

“He'll be kind, I promise.”

Draco kissed Harry again, fearing it would be the only way to stall the conversation. It was quick, they had to hurry, but Harry promised to see him in the morning. The real morning, when normal people were awake.

Harry spelled them both clean again with a flick of his wand, free hand tangled easily in the rumpled strands of Draco's hair.

Draco didn't really mind that so much either.

.

Draco was groggy the next morning when Pomfrey came to rouse him but she refused his request for a Pepper-Up Potion. The morning of the full moon especially, it could wreak havoc on his system. She also denied him anything stronger than his morning tea.

Draco was fairly certain he could kill her with a look now, it only needed to be perfected.

Over his incredibly decaffeinated breakfast, Draco watched as she warded the hospital wing.

Lupin had requested to meet with him alone.

Draco swallowed quickly, pushing his tray away when the small amount he'd eaten threatened to come back up.

McGonagall hadn't seen anything wrong with the request and had filled the older man in on all the pertinent details.

They were going to leave him alone with the wolf.

.

The room stank of his anxiety. Draco wished Madam Pomfrey had left him a Calming Draught, he didn't care if it might interfere with the Wolfsbane he would be taking later. This would be traumatic enough; he needed to keep his cool when Lupin arrived.

He could feel the change in the air as the man approached, feel it charge through him. Draco was panting before Lupin had even stepped through the wide doors.

Measuring eyes moved over him as Draco tensed, trying to hold perfectly still. Tried to keep every sense attuned for the slightest indication of the older man's mood or desire.

But the presence of the older wolf made things suddenly so much worse. Reactions he had been struggling to deal with for two months, and slowly overcoming, were suddenly overwhelming him.  
Draco could feel the monster inside of him waking up, responding.

It was hard to hold it in, every move and gesture required a response from him but Draco didn't know if it would be welcomed. And every moment he held back felt like the need would tear him apart inside.

Lupin stepped closer, presumably to gain Draco's full attention though he had had it since he'd opened the door, and suddenly it was too much.

Draco moaned, rising from his spot on the bed only to fall to his knees at the older man's feet. Surprise filled his nostrils, along with the faintest spark of arousal. Draco took a deep breath, soaking himself in the scent.

He lifted his hands from their positions on his thighs, parting the man's robes. A soft whine passed his lips as Draco pressed his fingers into the hardening bulge. “Please,” he asked, pushing his face into the older man's groin.

He nuzzled closer, pressing hungry kisses to the cloth covered erection, long fingers jerking at the ties of Lupin's trousers.

Strong hands pressed at his shoulders, trying to shove Draco away.

“Nono,” he pleaded. “I need it.”

He'd just worked Lupin's erection free of his pants, gasping in deep gulps of his fragrant skin, when Lupin's palm caught him across the cheek in a sharp slap.

Draco fell back in shock, staring up at the man. “What?”

“You'll learn to overcome those impulses, Mr. Malfoy.”

.

Lupin didn't come back for the rest of the day, leaving Madam Pomfrey to explain to Draco how he would pass the night of his transformation. Alone in the Shrieking Shack with a man who would rather hit him than give him what he needed. Familiar.

But the comfort in that was Pomfrey would want to look him over during the day, he wouldn't be locked away in his human form again.

.

Soft fingers stroked gently through his hair, coaxing Draco back to the conscious world. He smiled, snuffling happily into warm skin and tightening his grip on the other boy.

Quiet whispers filled his ear and Draco nodded, opening his mouth to answer Harry before his mind snapped into full alertness. He blinked warily at the bare chest he had been nuzzling. “Wha—”

“Draco.”

He yelped, scrambling an appropriate distance away before he could lift his eyes to meet the other man's. A thousand thoughts and feelings rushed through him before Draco knelt, head bowed and tipped to bare his throat.

He could smell Lupin's indecision, his growing arousal. Draco flinched when the man sat up.

“Draco, you know that's not necessary.”

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, lowering his head further. “You don't—not with me. I know that.” Draco pressed his fingertips against his cheek where Lupin had slapped him the day before. “You told me that.  
I should have remembered.”

Lupin reached for him, his hands settling on Draco's hunched shoulders. “Draco, you don't have to submit to me. I'm not your Alpha.”

Draco tensed further, a low growl building in his throat. “I know my place.” He grabbed one of the ruined sheets of their nest and ran.

.

He was being examined by Madam Pomfrey by the time Lupin had dressed and entered the hospital wing. Draco ignored him completely while the Matron called a greeting. He listened closely while Lupin professed to be in high health and Draco wondered when he would come through a transformation and not feel as though he'd been mauled by a hippogriff. Again.

Lupin watched closely as Pomfrey checked his vitals. The interest made Draco nervous and he was terrified that any second he would begin giving the woman details of their transformation that no one else needed to know. Ever.

It was bad enough he was still covered in the man's scent without him hanging around and arousing suspicions. Harry was supposed to see him today and if the brunet realized what he had done...

Harry burst into the room just as Madam Pomfrey convinced Draco to remove his hastily buttoned shirt. Draco froze, caught between pleasure at Harry's appearance and the need to hide the bruises that would give his secret away.

Pomfrey was kind enough to draw the curtains around them so she could finish her examination.

Draco wanted to shout that clearly he was fine. That there had been nothing to slit his wrists with anyway and he'd been a bit busy being bred like a bitch besides.

His jaw ached from the effort of holding it in.

Finally Pomfrey declared him as well as could be expected and ordered him to rest while she sent Harry and Lupin out of the ward.

Draco had no intention of sleeping, he had to figure out what he would say to Harry when the inevitable time came. He didn't mean to doze off.

.

He slept most of the day, comfortable in his familiar bed, trying to build up his strength after the physically and emotionally draining change, trying to avoid thinking about the previous night and worrying over the coming confrontation with Lupin. Harry slid into bed beside him somewhere around mid-afternoon, rough fingers sliding gently through Draco's hair as they lay together.

He talked in a soft voice, promising Draco that it was only one night a month, that Remus would help make it better. Easier.

Draco didn't have the heart to tell him what he'd done. Had no words to explain to the other boy what he had become, how even one night had changed him.

He almost wished he'd let Harry stake his claim, split him open to prove his ownership. Maybe the wolves would have obeyed it. It wouldn't be so hard to dread the coming months.

He let Harry hold him, twining their fingers together. A human connection, that was what he really needed. Even if his wolf still stirred for a different sort of touch.

.

Lupin came to speak to him as the day wore on, brown eyes widening at finding the Gryffindor Golden Boy lying with Draco pressed against his chest.

Harry didn't notice, smiling at his friend and chattering about how glad he was that the older man was there to help. He didn't recognize the shift in the older wolf's scent as his eyes passed over their closely entwined bodies.

Alarm flared through Draco, the instinctual need to please those that were stronger than him. Harry or Lupin, it was hard to know who owned him now.

Except Lupin knew what he was and Harry could never understand it.

Draco slipped out of Harry's arms as Lupin backed away to give them some privacy. It was only a few panicked steps to where the older man stood staring at him in shock and Draco dropped quickly into the familiar position, ignoring Harry's indignant spluttering and Lupin's voiced denials.

He lifted his hands, reaching out for Lupin's acknowledgment.

He knew what he looked like, had imagined a moment like this in shameful fever dreams, but Harry's hands dragging him away had never factored in. Or his sudden loss of control. Draco growled, scratching at Harry's hands on him, fighting to get back into position.

Harry didn't relent, strong arms squeezing until Draco had to stop squirming just to take a breath. And then, Lupin was there, whispering explanations to Harry, instructions, things Draco's mind couldn't hear because Lupin was there and he should be serving him.

Pain came when he didn't serve.

“Please,” he gasped, reaching for Lupin again. “Please, I need it. Please, I'll be good. I have to be good.”

He was crying, tears slipping down his cheeks, but for once Draco didn't care. They couldn't hurt him, not when he was trying to be good for them. Not when he wanted to please them.

“Shh, shh, Draco,” Harry whispered, pressing his face into Draco's hair. “It's okay. We know.”

“No no, don't know. Won't help,” Draco hissed, looking to Lupin to help him, to show him what he was supposed to do. “Please?”

Lupin shook his head, pushing Draco's hair out of his eyes and carefully ignoring the way Draco pressed into the touch. “It gets easier, Draco,” he promised sadly, meeting Harry's eyes over the blond's shoulder.

Draco whined, straining forward again as he watched the older man turn and leave.

The double doors of the ward shut, slamming with a final sound that set Draco's heart to racing. Harry's arms were tight around him. Holding him, confining him, stopping him, protecting him. Draco sagged back into the embrace gratefully.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered eventually, voice rough with unfamiliar emotion. “I didn't mean to. I can’t stop it.”

Harry’s arms tightened again. “It's okay, Draco,” he whispered into Draco's ear. “I promise it'll be okay now.”

“No,” Draco sobbed, fingers clenching around Harry's arm. “I've ruined it. I ruined it all.”

“How have you ruined it, Draco? Tell me.”

It took ages for the words to come, but they did. Pain and humiliation dealt by cruel hands. Fenrir taking sadistic pride in spilling pure blood. Forcing Draco to serve his every need. Sucking and fucking, whatever and whenever. Waking up covered in stinking piss because it filled some need inside the older wolf. Sneaking baths, stealing food.

Months of the same.

Hiding during the full moon, finally being able to sleep when it was new. Having to use his fingers to keep himself stretched so Fenrir did less damage, even if it only made the bastard try harder. Keeping himself clean inside to avoid the taste of his own arse.

Harry listened quietly, fingers stroking Draco's hair, cradling him on the floor.

“Harry,” Draco whispered after several minutes of silence. “You can't let me become him. I can't be Fenrir.”

“You won't.”

“I will,” Draco gasped. “I can. It's all inside me. I wanted to hurt you before and I would have. Made you bleed.” He pressed Harry's fingers into the vertical scars on his stomach. “You can't let me. You can stop me.”

Harry tightened his arms around Draco chest, breaths fluttering through Draco's hair. “Someone I loved very much told me that no one is either all good or all bad. You can make the choice, Draco. You don't need me to do it for you.”


End file.
